


as boundless as the sea

by coldairballoons



Series: Literature Lovers [2]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Drabble, Multi, Polyamory, Pre-Canon, Romeo and Juliet References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldairballoons/pseuds/coldairballoons
Summary: At a party, Lemony Snicket sneaks off to the only safe place--the library, particularly, his partners' library.Title from William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet"
Relationships: Beatrice Baudelaire/Bertrand Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket
Series: Literature Lovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163240
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	as boundless as the sea

**Author's Note:**

> I have 0 motivation and also school is killing me, so please take this. I have no thoughts. Only Lemon Snicker.

Champagne was too bubbly, in Lemony Snicket’s opinion, to be a solid drink. Its taste was neither alcoholic nor fruity, balancing just on the edge of both in an uncomfortable tangy tango, and although his partners seemed to enjoy it, especially on celebratory occasions, he found that overall, he preferred a red wine--more of a waltz than a tango.

However, he stood at the outskirts (a word which here refers to the outer edges of a cluster of people) of the celebration, watching Beatrice and Bertrand chat amongst the guests. They always did have a penchant for that, making conversation, and Lemony smiled from afar as he heard a chorus of laughter bubble up from where they were talking.

He took note of Bertrand’s beam, his face flushed from a lack of oxygen and the heat in the room, his smile prominent. The corners of his eyes were crinkled, something that Lemony always loved to point out while peppering kisses all over his face, his lover squirming and laughing. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and oh, how he wanted to go fix them, retie his tie, which hung loosely around his neck, and kiss his cheek, then Beatrice’s.

And Beatrice. She stood, a radiant angel, in the middle of the room, a floor-length white evening gown making her seem like she was glowing. Her face, too, was flushed, and she was deep in conversation with Kit Snicket, looking like she was acting out an overly dramatized death in flames.

(Although, such a thing was quite improbable, and Lemony chuckled to himself at the thought.)

Parties, however, were never Lemony’s cup of tea--he preferred a nice, solid root beer float to tea, which is to say “staying alone in his lovers’ library and listening to the muffled music from the ballroom while reading whatever poetry collection or mystery novel piqued his interest.” So he excused himself, though, no one noticed, and slipped off to the library, a flute of champagne still in his hand.

The world was quieter in the library, and as he set the glass down on an end table and proceeded to try to pick out a book, he was silently glad he’d left. Though he adored his partners, a party wasn’t the best place to be when one’s mind ran wild with “what if”s and panic about just who could be there, in the shadows.

He sat on a chaise, turning to the side to extend along it, and hummed as he flipped through the book. A romance, between two star-crossed lovers in a town in Italy. He’d read it before, of course, but as he flipped through the pages, he frowned at an annotation, in Bertrand’s familiarly slanted handwriting.

_ My bounty is as boundless as the sea, _

_ My love as deep; the more I give to thee, _

_ The more I have, for both are infinite.* _

_ *Bea & Lem--vows? _

Vows. 

Bea & Lem.

Lemony’s eyes widened as he ran his fingers down the page, feeling the indentation of his lover’s pen in the page, the ink making the paper slightly textured. A vow meant a promise, but a  _ vow _ , “ _ vows _ ”... Lemony knew what that meant.

Marriage.

...did he mean it? Did he  _ want _ it?

Of course Bertrand meant it, he was a sensible man, which here meant that he knew what he wanted. He wasn’t impulsive, he didn’t jump into situations he had no say in. Lemony wasn’t worried about impulsivity, nor about his partners’ rash thinking.

No, what he worried about, as he looked up to the doorway, where said partners were standing, a smile shared between them as Beatrice, then Bertrand, came over to kiss his cheeks, was just how he could compare. How he was worth their love. 

Though, letting the cover of the play fall shut, letting his mind drift to the two steady people standing with him… perhaps he was. And perhaps, only for a moment, it would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me on Tumblr at @coldairballoons, @bisexualwilliammurdoch, and @locallemony. <3


End file.
